


Shield of Light

by Axel Marodeur (MittenMarauder)



Category: Dungeons & Dragons (Roleplaying Game)
Genre: F/M, Multi, Work In Progress
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-04
Updated: 2019-03-09
Packaged: 2019-11-09 02:15:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,345
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17992925
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MittenMarauder/pseuds/Axel%20Marodeur
Summary: Updated 03/05/2019: Axel had a minor retcon to be a half-dwarf from a human. His stats and features remained otherwise unchanged.Updated 03/14/2019: Hegedüs Réka had a minor retcon, to flesh out some details.





	1. Push Before The Shove

A steady but uneven thump of boots, clanking of armor, and conversation filled the finger woods. A column of soldiers going along a barely visible trail. In the front of the column was Moradall, a half-orc warrior standing nearly 7 feet tall, dark greyish skin, and dark flowing braided hair made conversation with a Paladin of Torm beside him, an older human named Hegedüs Réka.

“These petty squabbles are wearing on me Moradall,” Réka said matter of factly, “This land is too raw, and few settlements to unite. Why bother?”

Moradall picked something out of his teeth with his tongue, “The coin is our concern. We get paid and innocents feel safe for a few moons. Frontier life is not easy, but this is not the Sword Coast Réka.”

Réka looked back at the rest of the soldiers before looking back and, pulling on the small braids of his salt and pepper beard, “Mercenaries or not, for some this is their home. We hardly protect the innocent if we’re mindlessly chasing off local warlords with no concern for the people.”

This struck Moradall as funny. “Réka your idealism is refreshing but how are you to defeat any evil babysitting a farmer. Strike at the heart and it keeps the vermin away. We cannot spend our days swatting at locusts.”

“No beast leaves territory unclaimed, but you have the right of it. The number of warlords dwindles, for reasons unknown. Do you not find it strange the others do not grow in power as a result?” Réka did not wait for an answer. Looking back she saw the fledgling warrior she was entrusted with, a half-dwarf that looked as if were some Lord or Lady’s heir with their cropped brown hair and blue eyes. Réka would entrust him to fight at her flank but was concerned as this would be his first test in the main line.

Axel saw Réka’s stare and returned a respectful nod. It was clearly being assigned to the front line that concerned his mentor. While Réka always pressed him the hardest at training, likely because Axel was her charge. He did not regret the extra training, so he looked forward to fighting at Réka’s side.

“She trusts you Axel, green as you are.” Moddok, a portly dwarf with a finely groomed beard jested. “Réka has seen many battles, and if she did not trust you to hold her flank, Réka would still have you fighting with the volunteers.” Moddok’s tone becoming more serious as his piercing brown eyes turned to Axel. “You’ll understand if you live long enough to have a fledgling of your own. It’s nothing personal my boy.” 

A dwarven cleric was marching with volunteers near the rear. Her reddish-brown hair could be a work of art with the braids in a pixie bun, with fair skin and hazel eyes, Folgrubelle was by all means considered a looker. At her side, a battle-worn mace and holy symbol chained to her wrist would indicate she is no stranger to battle. She grumbled at their inexperience, and as such, she would have to spend more time watching over them than fighting with the more seasoned host. This vastly improved their chance of survival, but it also was dangerous for her, a point not lost to her. To her front, two Tabaxi brothers, both with dark grey fur chatted. The younger spoke funny, while the elder brother spoke of duty.

“This one thinks it will be a great first story beyond the village,” the younger one named Ash began, “We can tell the tale of heroic valor, saving the land once again.” Ash was too enthralled with his own story to see his brother’s displeasure.

“Brother we go into battle. This is not a child’s game. People will die and we are here to see that the innocent are not among them.” Coil growled. Both were of these lands, but being close to a Dwarven settlement near the mountains, they were offered more protection than those in more open terrain. Coil had hoped his brother would learn by joining the call to arms that happened every time a raider group got bold enough to terrorize the lands. He feared Ash’s life was in danger and hopes combat would help him grow.

Ash and Coil were not the only siblings among the mercenaries. Amidst the trees, Elven sisters Verrona and Ioelena Kelmaer prowled with a small handful of other Rangers. While they were skirmishers during battle, they often scouted while the group was on the march. Ioelena was the first to notice. She looked at Verrona. “Sister, do you hear what I hear? That is no child crying and we are close to a settlement.”

Dashing ahead, Verrona whistled to Moradell that danger may loom. Her keen ears were quickly met with confirmation by her hawk companion that danger was indeed looming. Her hawk could not speak, but it was clear it in her squawks that it was a sizable threat.

Moradell turned to Fulke, a human Knight-Captain. “Danger ahead. Permission to deploy and engage?” The half-orc was not keen on waiting to be allowed to deploy his own troops, but Fulke was the conduit for their benefactor and getting paid for this job was complicated already. Moradell had no intention of losing gold over lack of permission.

Fulke looked at Moradell dumbfounded, he knew he was in charge but he understood where the mercenary was coming from. “They are your warriors, do as they must to protect themselves. I’ll only call the charge.”

Without hesitation, Moradell called the warriors to arms. Most heeding their positions from experience, while the inexperienced volunteers formed a flanking force. As they exited the finger woods, a settlement was under attack by the very raiders whose leader they were hired to eradicate. He looked to Fulke, who nodded in agreement. “The raiders are to be driven off, do not give chase, but let’s show these savages a real fight!”

The roar of battle was deafening to all but a few. A few villagers huddled in the cellar trying to drown out the cries of pain by humming songs of a better time. The raiders were not there for food, gold, or even slaves. It was clear none were to be left alive and a message was being sent to any that would rebel against the warlord.

Arrows screamed from across the village center hitting two raiders squarely in the neck. Fulke stepping into view screamed for the charge. Verrona and Ioelena had the skirmishers fall back to reveal the mercenaries’ main contingent that now hurtled towards the raiders. The Raiders counter charged to the cry of their own commander. The collision of both lines were as immovable objects and the thundering crash was not unlike knights jousting on horseback with lances in hand.

The Raiders looked as if they broke first and the defenders were winning the initial test of strength. Unfortunately, this was but a ruse the Raider Captain used to collapse the line to envelop the defenders. As the defenders pushed forward, they slowly became encircled. The Knight Captain recognized this far too late, but he trusted in the band of mercenaries to win out with their superior experience.

Moradell towered above the defender’s line bringing his claymore down on the nearest raider, nearly cleaving the target in half from the shoulder to the waist. He kicked the foe’s now lifeless corpse off his sword in time to barely deflect a second raider filling the gap. “Push these currs back,” he bellowed.

In another part of the line, Réka, brought her Warhammer down as a flash of radiant light exploded from the raider’s now crushed helm. Her greenhorn on his right was nearly struck down as he watched his mentor’s masterful smite. “Axel!” Réka chided, “You’ll not learn a thing from me if you die, and get your shoulder up! If I am not alive to teach you properly because you cannot guard my flank, I will have your hide in the next life!”

A raider sensing he could strike down the young and inexperienced warrior was too much to resist. Lunging in with their Longsword, they hoped to press the advantage of having caught the young warrior off balance. The raider’s hubris ultimately left him overextended, and while inexperienced, Axel did take lessons to heart and swiftly applied it to the raider’s knee. A sickening crack of bone as a flail impacted, in a desperate upswing from the fledgling warrior signaled he was more afraid of his mentor’s wrath than a seasoned raider. Young Axel heeded the raising of the shoulder bearing the shield, colliding with the raider’s chin. “That’s the spirit. Perhaps I can make you a proper warrior yet!” Réka smirked as she drove the pommel of her Warhammer into another raider.

The Raider Captain howled his displeasure as the defenders held solid despite being surrounded. “Master Dhul!” a raider exclaimed, “Their leader is separated!” Grinning under his horned helm, Dhul eyed the Knight Captain hungrily and hoped defeating him would trigger a panic. His blood crusted armor creaked as he dove into the melee, Longsword in his left and Shortsword in his right. 

“Captain Fulke, the Raider Commander approaches!”, Axel called out. The Knight Captain reacting to the warning, barely deflected the initial onslaught. He was no stranger to dual-wielding opponents, but the raider’s leader clearly was not lacking in skill or ferocity. Fulke had hoped to break the raiders swiftly and could sense the enemy sought the same. Both recognized falling in battle could have grievous consequences, although Fulke was not as much of a lynchpin as the raider believed. Despite this, he had no intention of falling in battle to prove it. Fulke’s shield did little to soften the fury of blows, and fighting a left-handed opponent was catching him more off-balance than he’d have liked.

While the duel raged on, the defenders were breaking the raiders. Skirmishers were also wearing down the raiders. Being too swift to be engaged by any pursuers they were clearly showing the raiders had not prepared to deal with such a defense by seasoned mercenaries. Dhul was so focused on the duel, he forgot about his troops, that were dwindling in number rather quickly. Fulke sensed this, and knew the longer the duel lasted, there would soon be little, if any, raiders to defend the warlord’s’ camp.

Finally, Dhul got the upper hand, driving the shortsword deep into Fulke’s shoulder. As Fulke cried out in pain, Dhul’s longsword drove into Fulke’s armpit on the opposite side. He pulled both swords back, delivering a mortal blow to Fulke. Dhul roared his triumph but quickly was muted when he saw the disarray of his own forces. He had failed to see how badly the battle was going, and with no sounding of withdrawal, his raiders were being mercilessly mowed down. Cursing under his breath, “Sound the retreat! We must fall back to the camp!” Dhul pointed his longsword at the defenders growling, “You may have the field this day, but you cannot hope to defeat my master!”

Some of the defenders laughed, Folgrubelle shouting, “I’ve had lazy milksops who fought harder than your troops and you care to threaten us?” The roar of laughter that ensued only enraged Dhul, but he gathered what was left of his broken troops and fled. The defenders under no orders to pursue instead turned to aid their own, and retrieve what they could from the dead raiders.

The village reeked of burnt flesh, while screams of pain and loss filled the air. Villagers slowly emerged to help manage fires and tend to the wounded. There were no cries of victory as they knew the mercenaries would soon be moving on and the next attack might not go so well for them should the raiders return, dwindled numbers or not.

Moradall surveyed the carnage. “They were lucky we were on the march, and we planned to stop here. The warlord’s camp is still what we were paid to clear. Gather what we can leave what these people need to rebuild, but that is not our concern.”

Réka sighed heavily at her displeasure, “As you request, but as a Paladin, I do firmly object to leaving these people to their own devices in this condition.”

“Noted. I am not one to disagree on this matter, but the pay is little and Fulke is dead. We will have enough problems explaining how we did not protect him. We are not babysitters Réka,” the Half-Orc said tersely.

Réka shook her head in agreement. “These are untamed lands, with unmarked villages and no one local lord that cares to unite them, much less protect them. They are but sheep living among wolves. A waste. The dwarves in the mountains and the Tabaxi Village they trade with commit enough to see their borders safe from these mindless raiders, but they are too insular for my liking.”

“Agreed Réka, but my people are safe in the mountains,” Moddok chimed in. He stroked his beard before continuing. “The Tabaxi mean no ill will either, but what warriors they do have are among the caravan guards and the others are occupied keeping foul beasts from their settlement.”

“No sense in complaining about it,“ Moradall grunted before changing the subject. “How many did we lose?”

“Eleven, counting Fulke sir.” This time it was Axel that spoke. “Folgrubelle says the volunteer contingent was too inexperienced and she can only do so much. Verrona and Ioelena, report no losses from their band of skirmishers. The two Tabaxi brothers also survived, though the younger is not to be found but is not among the dead.”

Réka scowled, “Ash, was it? Well, that damned cat isn’t dead so maybe he ran home. Coil is a fine warrior. If he is not concerned for his brother, all the more likely nothing is amiss. I’ll leave him to scold his sibling. Moradall is not one to pay deserters, so their loss.”

“I would defend the honor of the young Tabaxi. I am still young, and Ash seems young to me. His brother is not the mentor you are Réka,” Axel chuckled in an attempt to lighten the mood. Réka’s eyes narrowed, “Your own inexperience shows too. Holding a line means to stop gawking when the enemy is in your midst. I’ll not have you risking the front if it happens again. Am I understood?”

Axel’s tone shifted, “Yes ma'am. I will not fail you again.” Réka turned away from him, and he understood he was quietly being dismissed. He cursed himself under his breath for failing again. As Axel walked away, he sought to find something to eat. While the villagers were not to be helped, nothing said trading for something other than a ration that might have actual flavor was frowned upon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Updated 03/05/2019: Axel had a minor retcon to be a half-dwarf from a human. His stats and features remained otherwise unchanged.
> 
> Updated 03/14/2019: Hegedüs Réka had a minor retcon, to flesh out some details.


	2. So Much Shoving

The band of mercenaries had once again taken up a marching order and began marching away from the settlement, which much to Master Réka’s delight was at least no longer on fire and filled with the lamentations of the survivors and wounded. Turning to Moradall, “This will be my last campaign. My fledgling needs to know if he hears Torm. We cannot remain here.”

“I am not surprised Réka,” Moradall knew one-day she would find her apprentice and pass the torch. He glanced back to Axel and back to Réka. “Do you think he is ready? That he is the right candidate to carry that mantle?”

Réka gave no hesitation, “No one is ready for the call Moradall, not at first. I know I was not ready and some days I question if I ever have been. His sense of justice is good.” She paused, and moved the conversation to a lighter tone, “Are you afraid he will smite you for something? I do not think he would be such a paladin.” Réka laughed. “No, he is most certainly not that kind of paladin.”

The Half-Orc’s eyes narrowed. “Not that I do not see the humor Réka, but look ahead. The camp looms and there are no fires in the watchtowers. Something is amiss.” Moradall whistled to Verrona, and the elf dashed ahead, signaling to her sister to check the flanks.

Verrona’s footsteps barely made a whisper as she flew through the tall grass, her hawk Orion scanning for any dangers. While slower than her sister, few could say they were more one with the shadows than Verrona. Orion cried out and circled. Danger lurked and she stopped mere feet from a band of ambushers.

A raider looked up and saw the circling hawk, but being in an open field she thought little of it. A flash of steel was the last thing she saw as Verrona struck with a shortsword. Another raider’s eyes went wide at the sight, only to lose their head seconds later. Unknown to the ranger, a third lurked and struck her behind her left ear. Stunned, she tried to escape but it was too late. Orion could do little but flew to Ioelena to warn of his master’s demise.

Meanwhile, Moradall stopped the band to await the Verrona’s report but as her hawk returned, he knew something was not right. Ioelena reported the all clear, only to see Orion and her blood went cold.

“No. NO!” She screamed. It was too much, she lost everyone but her sister to raiders like these that they hunted with a cold vengeance. Before Moradall could stop her, she had already grabbed the skirmishers and headed out, following Orion.

Realizing he had to get order restored, lest he risks losing more soldiers Moradall called out, “To arms! They seek to ambush us, but it is we who are to be hunting them. No pursuit, but leave none alive!”

It was not long before the cacophony of battle filled the air. The skirmishers being lead by a distraught Ioelena were already in a bloodthirsty game of cat and mouse. What remained of the volunteers formed a battle line which screened for the skirmishers. Their own lack of organization allowed the skirmishers to weave between the open lines, leaving would be pursuers to deal with melee fighters.

Réka checked the main battle line, seeing all was in place nodded to Moradall. The half-orc bellowed for the advance. Normally the main line would screen for the skirmishers, but having had lost control of that element, he had to trust in Folgrubelle to do what she could with the volunteers now pushed into frontline combat.

The advance was tedious. The Raiders no longer trying to ambush still retained the advantage, and things turned for the worst for the mercenaries when the howling and baying of beasts added to the clashing of arms. Moradall’s intuition was not wrong, and the Warlord was not waiting to fight at his camp. Instead, the entire raider force was assembled on the field. It was to be a fight to the death.

The volunteers having let the skirmishers pass thought to press a counter attack. Folgrubelle told them to hold the line, barely keeping the green recruits from breaking into a charge. She heard them before she saw them, a pack of Wargs coursing through the tall grass. Moradall’s line would have held, but the volunteers were not in such a position to do so.

Folgrubelle radiated light from her body, and nearly every volunteer bathed in a soft glow. The first warg to emerge was knocked back in an explosion of light as a human volunteer’s polearm connected. A second warg emerged, deftly sidestepping a sword and grabbed one of the inexperienced fighters by the throat. Folgrubelle could do nothing to save them, but she brought down her mace onto the warg to an explosion of radiant light.

Moradall saw the flashes and knew them to be divine magic. As he pressed the line to aid, a familiar foe stepped into view. Dhul raised his blades and with the full weight of the whole raider camp behind him, led a charge.

“Not today curr!” Réka bellowed and light radiated from her body as divine magic was channeled into what amounted to a sword and shield bearing the symbol of Torm. The formless guardian having been placed directly in the middle of the charge threw the raiders into disarray. Explosions of light threw Dhul back, while what remained of the charge was promptly cut down.

“That never gets old, ”Moradall laughed. “No time to waste, the volunteers will not hold if Folgrubelle is already casting heavy magic!”

“Agreed!” Réka shouted.

By the time Moradall and the mainline arrived, Folgrubelle was struggling with just 1 volunteer left. While the wargs looked to be defeated, it was at great cost. “I’m sorry, Moradall. They were so new. The wargs were too much.” she was already exhausted. Folgrubelle motioned to the lone volunteer, the human with a polearm, “Ivan can hold his own if we can merge lines.”

This was merely a formality, as Moradall would not leave a badly broken unit to fend for themselves. As they formed, once again Dhul emerged, clearly none too pleased at his failed charge. As the line readied for an expected charge, Moddok called out to Dhul. “Are you ready to apologize? You give warriors a bad name and should say you're sorry.”

Laughter erupted from the mercenaries, infuriating Dhul even more. “I slaughter your pups and still you have a mind to jest? I will kill you last but not before I skin you alive dwarf.”

“We killed your pups too, or are you as blind as you are stupid?” Folgrubelle hissed.

Dhul surveyed the pack of wargs he paid very good coin for that laid scattered and dead. “My master will crush the lot of you! You do not really think you are winning do you?” Dhul was smug. He was absolutely certain that the raiders would win out of sheer numbers.

“Spare me the big talk. I have met halflings with balls bigger n’ you.” Folgrubelle’s eyes almost seemed to vanish in a ray of light as a pillar of divine fire enveloped Dhul. What few raiders that had gathered were also consumed. Leaving little, if anything but embers and smoking husk of what was Dhul’s armor.

“Hey, when were you looking at a halfling’s nethers?” Moddok asked in shock.

Folgrubelle smirked, “You sure I wasn’t talking about yours?” with a smug look she looked to Moradall who couldn’t contain his amusement that the healer managed to keep her spirits up, while literally removing an enemy commander from the field, and poke fun with a friend in the same breath.

Moddok put his hands on his hips, “Ha. Ha. You are such a tart sometimes.” He smiled knowing she was safe with the main lines, and he looked to the human who had fought at her side. “Good job greenhorn. Ye’ didn’t piss yourself and with that much blood on your weapon, you did your part.”

Ivan looked at the carnage before looking at the dwarves. “Folgrubelle gets the credit. I did as I was told and held my ground. Nothing heroic.”

“You held the line. There’s plenty of time for heroics later.”, Folgrubelle said with a warm smile. “Besides, I hardly healed you at all. The polearm suits you. Careful though, Moddok is jealous of anyone with poles longer than his, which is pretty much everyone.”

As laughter filled the lines, a slow plodding thunder grew. The laughter slowly muted as a minotaur with a handful of raiders arrived. The minotaur was large, even by their standards. Spikes adorned his leather armor, skulls of various origins adorned his belt. He held a large battleaxe out in a challenge. “You. You are responsible for all of this? You killed my army. This was to be my legacy! My land!” The minotaur bellowed. “I shall have what is due for I am Asela Ironhoof!”

Moradall wasted no time, “Asela your life is forfeit. Break ranks! This ends now!”

Asela lowered his horns and charged, what raiders were left engaged the mercenaries at will. The chaos was short-lived, as the Raiders fell quickly and Asela was the only combatant remaining on the field. The mighty minotaur was in all respects exceptionally skilled and it made sense it would have gathered an army.

As the melee ensued, Moddok and Ivan were knocked unconscious. Folgrubelle trying to aid the fallen pair was knocked over during a charge and Asela lowered his horns in preparation to gore the downed cleric. Axel stepped in front, raised his shield, and shouted in defiance.

In a wild swing, Axel’s flail connected with Asela’s head, an explosion of light knocking the minotaur off balance, which proved fatal as a combined strike from Moradall and Réka landed, and all that could be heard was the bellowing of a dying bull.

Réka was the first to react to Axel’s sudden divine power. “You have been called, Apprentice. Torm has judged you and decided that you shall be his champion.” Réka knew that the calling came in many forms. That it came in the exact moment of defending a downed ally spoke volumes.

“You’ve never called me apprentice Réka. Are you so certain this was not of Folgrubelle’s doing?” Axel was not in disbelief, but he was not immediately ready to claim the sign as his own.

Folgrubelle shook her head, “No Axel I was most certainly not channeling Torm. You defended an ally of the faith in an hour of need. He calls you. Will you answer?” She knew that was not always a question with an immediate answer. “In time you will know.”

Réka agreed. “Yes. Until you answer, we will not press the matter further. Torm does not want unwilling champions. For now, let us ensure the land is safe. With Asela dead, and the raiders utterly destroyed, the people can rest and rebuild.

“We will sack the camp. Kill surviving raiders. Take what we need.” Moradall looked around, then to the now trio discussing Torm’s call. “I’ll leave the task of ensuring the villagers can safely loot what we do not take to you.”

Moradall had seen Ivan and Moddok get up, “Moddok, Ivan, and Coil search the raiders. Leave the bodies for the crows. As for our dead, I have to discipline a certain elf. This blood is on her hands.” With that, he stormed off to find Ioelena.


	3. Why We Fight

“Would you stop fidgeting Axel? I am trying to stitch this properly and you are making it impossible.” Folgrubelle admonished.

Axel snarled. “Well. It. Hurts.”

The cleric placed her hand on his shoulder in comfort. “I know dear but I cannot make it better with you moving about. I promise to make it up to you later.” She felt Axel relax a little and she returned to sewing the wound closed. While healing magic often sped up healing, some wounds were simply too deep or had been caused by hostile magic that required more physical healing methods. Fortunately, it was the former, something Folgrubelle had some skill in closing.

Her father like many dwarves was a proud man, but he encouraged Fol to get out and explore what the realm has to offer. Coming from a small clan, he knew glory was to be found elsewhere. This made her more trusting of the outside world and put her among the traders.

Folgrubelle’s mother by comparison often disapproved, causing no shortage of squabbles. Believing glory was to be found in the mountains among their own people. Her mother was a seamstress and forced her daughter to learn the trade. While not content, she used this as an excuse to chat with travelers, mending and making clothing for merchants.

When she was old enough to decide her fate, she took to the road to her father’s praise and her mother’s scorn. It was clear Folgrubelle had a knack for the healing arts, sometimes using her sewing skills beyond mending clothing to stitch cuts or aid caravan guards. This provided a modest income, and she got to see the world.

One time, after the caravan was attacked, she aided a paladin that was seriously wounded. That paladin was Réka who saw the blessings of Torm in her. She offered to take her to the temple and show her to the clerics. One of the other caravan guards, Moddok who knew Fol’s father, encouraged her to go and said she was welcome to return, perhaps a better healer than she already was. Thus began her journey to become a cleric. Folgrubelle’s mind wandered back into focus carefully mending Axel’s shoulder.

Moradall entered the room. “How bad is it?” While the half-orc did not care for the well being of his band of mercenaries, he did care about the unit’s strength. “I need to know who I can count on in battle.”

Folgrubelle looked up. With Axel’s back facing her, Moradell could not see the wound. She gently pressed her thumb into the wound causing Axel to yelp in pain. “He won’t die but needs time to rest undisturbed if you want him to raise a shield.” Her tone indicating her displeasure of the interruption. Moradall feared none, but he did not dare to challenge Fol’s demands. He knew pissing her off was never in his best interest.

“Very well. We leave in 3 days at dawn. You two can share this room. I’ll not pay for a room for someone that cannot fight.” His words were pointed, even if they meant no offense. “I trust you have no qualms Folgrubelle.” Moradall did not wait for an answer and left. Muffled shouts of “leave the healer be” could be heard shortly after.

“Such a charmer he is. No compassion.” Fol huffed. She leaned in close to Axel’s ear. “You know I only did that to ensure we’re left alone. I am sure you do not mind helping to keep appearances. After all, this was your request.”

Axel sighed. “I know. Station and properness and all that.” He motioned sarcastically, immediately regretting it as pain shot through his wounded shoulder.

“You do not have to be so proper, even if Réka encourages it. There is a difference in proper impressions versus expectations. You do not have to be that kind of paladin.” The dwarf gently putting a healing salve over the neatly closed wound. “You will need to keep that arm in a sling.” Folgrubelle started wrapping the shoulder in clean bandages and fashioned a sling to keep him from using the injured shoulder.

Axel looked at her and smiled, indicating the pain was subsiding. “We both know I am expected to be that kind of paladin. It is for the best.” He looked at his shoulder.

Fol sighed. She knew his heart was in the right place, but he was so stubborn that his hangups on appearances conflicted with his own view of hating the imposed perceptions of station and a holy knight. She loved him just the same and chuckled. “Ever the stubborn one you are.”

The two spend the next few days enjoying the privacy of the Inn Room as Axel healed. During moments of him resting, Fol prepared medical supplies and prepared her pack for various cleric spell components. When he was awake, she performed wound care, and they spent some in moments of intimacy when guaranteed none would interrupt.

When it was time to go back on the march, the pair having shared a last embrace behind closed doors went to the mustering area. Réka was waiting with a look of concern but seemed relieved when Axel arrived. “How is your wound?”

“It is sore but Folgrubelle assures me it is mending nicely. A few more days before I am fully recovered.” The Half-Dwarf shifted with his arm still in a sling. “I have not had my armor mended but I cannot yet don it anyway.” Axel frowned his displeasure.

Réka laughed. “What sort of mentor would I be if I did not see to my apprentices’ armor while they recovered?” She motioned to the armor that looks to have been repaired, if by less than expert hands. “You should consider wearing something heavier. That gambeson can only serve you for so long.”

Folgrubelle arrived and looked at the repairs. “I think I could have done a better job on the mending but heavier armor would serve you better Axel.” The dwarf chuckled. “I may be a good healer, but mending broken bodies is less preferable to mending broken armor.”

The trio laughed as Moddok walked over. “We’ll get paid soon enough. Should be enough to get some proper armor befitting a Paladin, preferably crafted by a dwarf. These armorers are not for lack of skill, but you are not a volunteer. About time you started looking the part. You may be a fledgling paladin, but I’ve seen farmers more armored than you.” He elbowed Axel lightly in the ribs. “How’s the shoulder? Was a nasty hit from that Gnoll you took.”

Looking down at his shoulder, he smirked at the portly dwarf. “Tried to turn me into a shish kebab, but Fol assures me the wound mends well.” Smiling at the Cleric briefly before looking back at Moddok. “I’ll be able to raise my shield arm again soon. If I don’t Master Réka might have my hide.”

Réka roared in laughter. “Axel’s ferocity in battle is matched only by his fear of my rebukes on his fighting form.” Looking at her apprentice. “Let none doubt we are glad you are among the living and in good spirits. Folgrubelle stands here because of that shield arm I recall, seems only fitting she keeps you alive in return.”

“All right you lazy sods, let us get on the road. Several more days of marching lie ahead of us.” Moradall barked orders as the mercenaries fell into marching order. Satisfied they were properly formed up, the Half-Orc motioned for the group to move.


	4. The Pushback

“Réka do you recall when you mentioned how it was strange that the number of warlords dwindled, yet none would rise in their place? It has been some months since Asela Ironhoof was defeated, yet this time what Raider camps remain, do not scatter and flee.” Moradall was vexed at the problem. The Raiders should have simply moved on as they had so many times before.

The paladin breathed in deeply while she pondered the question. “I do. They are also getting stronger, but do not venture forth. It is less like occupation and more like they are fleeing something, yet without a leader, they fear ransacking the land, lest they too fall to mercenaries.”

“Indeed. The Gnolls were bad enough, but Ioelena claims to have spotted a fiend.” He paused before continuing.” She is not one to tell stories. I doubt that it is what our scouts say it may be, as seasoned they might be.”

Réka turned to Moradall angry this was not mentioned before. “Why bring this up now? If a fiend is nearby, there may be more. Have you forgotten you have warriors blessed by the divine in your ranks?!” The paladin’s face turning red with anger.

“Do not question my judgment on what I decide to tell you. This is still my command, and you are still my subordinate!” The Half-Orc’s voice boomed as he stopped and turned his imposing frame to tower over the paladin. “I do not need you leading warriors away from the main host so you can chase around a creature to further your own glory. I’ll have no more words from you.” Moradall simply turned and began marching again. The rest of the warriors began moving without being told for fear of showing any loyalty, despite some gazes indicating support.

The paladin sat there, as much of the mercenaries passed by in silence. Even Axel, his apprentice made no eye contact, instead striking up a conversation with Folgrubelle.

“Is it just me, or have Moradall and Réka been a little testy with one another lately?” The apprentice paladin seemed confused that his mentor, who put duty above most things was now almost openly questioning and defying the Half-Orc’s command.

Folgrubelle let the question sink in. She too had noticed something was amiss among the pair but had been attributing it to the stress of constant warfare since the campaign started. They were not the only mercenaries clearing Raiders, but something had Moradall more uptight than usual. She turned to Axel. “No I see it too, but it is best we keep that to ourselves. I do not know what is prompting these quarrels, but until it affects judgment in battle, it is none of our concern.”

The young paladin shrugged. Something was amiss and it had to do with the campaign.

“Perhaps it is because we are not yet paid for our services.” Moddok chimed in. “Moradall has never liked when we do not get paid a little upfront. He favors his coin and having to spend from his own pocket makes him unpleasant. The longer we go without payment, he will only get worse.” Stroking his beard he laughed. “Réka is a strong woman, she can handle herself. They’ll be back to being friends once cranky pants gets to hear the jingle of some new coin.”

The words had barely passed Moddok’s lips when the cries of the scouts sounded the alarm.

“Enemy forces are on the march. They’re close and are preparing to attack!” Ioelena ran along the ranks sounding the alarm before making eye contact with Moradall.

The Half-Orc drew his claymore. “Prepare for battle! If they want to fight, I will not deny them!” He looked down the ranks. “Maintain a loose formation and watch your backs. They may try to repeat their tactics from the prior battle!”

“Time to earn our keep.” Moddok, upon hearing the order unhooked his trusty Battleaxe. He turned to see the band of Gnolls quickly advancing. A roar that seemed to shake the earth erupted as the dwarf charged the closest enemy.

Folgrubelle looked to Axel and his shield arm. “Do not go far. I will do what I can.” As she did so, she lifted her mace, looked to the volunteers. “Keep your sorry hides close, do not chase, and fight or you will not live to see the next meal.”

Ivan dropped his polearm between Axel and Folgrubelle. “If you cannot raise a shield, then I will see to it your flank is covered.” He grinned under his helm. “I still owe you one, seems like a good time to cash in no?”

His blue eyes seemed to turn grey in the light, and a wicked grin crossed Axel’s lips. “I am not that infirmed, but I won’t deny the aid.” Grabbing his flail, he gripped it tightly and instinctively moved into a stance as if he was raising a shield, despite his arm still being in a sling.

Behind them, a gaggle of 10 wide-eyed volunteers took up arms. Some showing more courage than others, but they were clearly nervous. Most were fresh, having only joined a few days prior. Among them, for the second time, a young Tabaxi steeled himself. It was Ashen Bloodstone, who had returned at Coil’s request, lest he continues to live in shame for fleeing the field.

“This one will not be afraid. This one must be strong. This one must tell the story.” The ashen grey fur bristled on end. He was afraid but he was compelled to stay. The obsession with seeing combat consumed him. “This one must live.” Claws extended out as Ash hissed.

Closer to the front, Coil was also preparing himself for battle. While he feared for his brother’s well-being, he could not dwell on that. Adjusting his tekko-kagi he spoke. “For my home. For my brothers.” Coils hiss echoed as the first Gnoll tried to strike him with a halberd and he dodged to the side. He slashed at his attacker and the metal claws around his fists grinding the Gnoll’s armor.

Before the Gnoll could counter, a Warhammer swept the leg with a crack of bone. Réka nodded to Coil before moving to engage another that had charged in. The scraping of metal from the newest attacker's polearm over the paladin's gauntlet, had nearly thrown her off balance.

This time, it was Coil returning the favor, the tekko-kagi driving into an exposed area of the Gnoll, the blood splatter indicating the Tabaxi had struck true. Not wasting time Coil struck with his other hand, driving the Gnoll to the ground. A third strike ensured it was not going to get up, filling the air with a sickening howl.

The scene was chaotic. Gnolls seemingly poured out of nowhere and were starting to overwhelm the mercenaries. Each warrior was now, at the very least, fighting at two to one odds. Among the attackers a robed figure silently moved among them, then began chanting, unleashing a hail of ice.

Moddok was consumed in the storm, barely even turning to see it before it happened. He collapsed to the ground coughing blood. His body was failing to listen to commands. The dwarf could feel nothing, yet pain echoed through his body. Were he at home, Moddok would have likened it to being crushed by a cave in. The sky was turning an odd shade of color, the world blurred and breathing became difficult.

Ioelena’s eyes just barely caught the wizard as the Ice Storm cast. She tried to close the distance before they could escape into the chaos, but a Gnoll wielding two shortswords stood in her path. The elf loosed an arrow but it missed and only took a tuft of fur off the beast. “You have got to be kidding me.” She chided herself for missing and prepared to take another shot with her Shortbow, this time striking true in the Gnoll’s shoulder. Deftly dodging both blades from the counterattack, Ioelena fired the third arrow, felling the Gnoll. She quickly scanned the field for the wizard, but they were not to be found.

A warhorn filled the air, and the Gnolls began falling back. The scene was grisly. Gnoll corpses littered the field, but the mercenaries were not without casualties of their own.

Axel was filled with rage, as several volunteers had died. He stormed over to Moradall. “They are but lambs to the slaughter. How many more must die for the sake of proving strength. Answer me.”

The Half-Orc snapped back. “They have not proven their worth. If you are so concerned with their well being, then you are ordered to stay with Folgrubelle and protect them. I have no time for your insolence or that of your master. You forget your place fledgling.”

“You forget yours, Commander.” Axel may be nearly a foot and a half shorter than, but he was in zero fear of Moradall’s rebuke. Even Réka was staring in both horror and admiration of the feat. The fledgling paladin stood defiant, almost hostile. “You want loyalty and respect, but who will do so if they are dead?”

Moradall stood in shock. The rage welling up at the words, that stung with truth, as insubordinate as they may be. “My order stands. This is my mercenary company. You earn your place here. I have no time to coddle village folk thinking themselves warriors when they are, as you say, lambs to the slaughter.” Turning away he finished. “You are to fight with the greenhorns. Maybe you will learn some humility.”

Axel seethed. “Maybe you’ll learn some compassion too, but don’t let me stop you from keeping your head up your ass.”

The Half-Orc couldn’t contain himself and shoved the young paladin to the ground. “Don’t you speak to me like some ale-wench you cur.” Despite his best efforts, Axel remained defiant and it only further enraged Moradall further. “I have a mind to punish you further.”

“So what is stopping you?” Rising to his feet, arm still in a sling he stepped forward in challenge.

Réka intervened at this point, having seen his apprentice clearly had no intention of backing down. “That is enough Moradall. He will guard the volunteers with Folgrubelle. I will not let this continue with dead and wounded to tend to.”

Moradall huffed and walked away without a word, kicking a dead Gnoll as he passed.

“Playing a bit of a dangerous game Axel, but I will not chastise you for standing by convictions that I share. As for your insubordination, I cannot reprimand you there either having spoken out of my station not long before the battle.” He looked over the field. “Tend to the dead and wounded as best you can. I will deal with Moradall.”

Axel nodded. “As you wish.”

Folgrubelle and Ivan just finished moving the bodies of the fallen volunteers into a row by the roadside by the time Axel arrived. “Folgrubelle it seems I am under your command now.” He smirked with a slight shrug, wincing at the renewed pain in his shoulder.

She looked at him sternly. “If you are going to fight Moradall, Would you let me know beforehand? I’ll need to smack some sense into you. Besides, you are still injured. What were you thinking?” A smile crept across her face though, relieved she had a dedicated warrior to help with the volunteers.

Ivan laughed. “Axel fears nothing but Réka haunting him in the next life.”

The young paladin chuckled. “You sound like Moddok.” His face immediately turned to concern. “Where is he? “

The trio looked around, before noticing the portly dwarf crumpled in the distance. They ran over but could already tell it was too late. Folgrubelle and Axel carefully picked up Moddok’s lifeless body. Solemnly, they carried him over to the rest of the dead and gently laid him down.

“Moddok, you will be sorely missed, brother. You made us laugh and your prowess with a Battleaxe was always something to behold. May you find peace in the afterlife.” Axel looked at the dead with a quiet gaze. “This campaign has cost the land so much blood, yet few will know of the struggles here. Untamed and uncharted, but all who died here fought for this land.”

“He was like a brother to me. Father used to have a roaring good time when the two would drink together, and I am what I am today because of Moddok.” A small tear rolled down Folgrubelle’s face. There was a moment of silence. The Cleric wanted to tell Axel something, but she could not bring herself to tell him. Now was not the time. “Farewell Moddok Ironbraid. May the bards sing of your sacrifice.”

Ivan prayed quietly. “I only pray it is not in vain.”

“No. As long as we fight, our villages are safe. The little ones, safe from the horrors here.” Coil said as he strolled up with his little brother running up to hug him.

Ash said nothing, but the blood on his fur clearly showed he did not flee and fought alongside the volunteers.

Coil purred softly consoling his brother. “Your stories brother. They make sacrifices like this live on. Moddok and the other's stories will continue. Our village must know why we fight. This is not the final chapter.”


	5. Robed Mystery

The overall mood of the mercenaries was subdued as they marched along. Moradall had not uttered a word after the confrontation with Axel. Hegedüs was not even marching abreast with the Half-Orc, staying just a bit behind.

Coil and Ivan were making casual conversation if only to keep their minds off of how unhinged Moradall was becoming.

“We have not seen a wizard before among the Raiders.” Ivan lamented. “Is because we are venturing closer to another main camp, or do you think they are hiring mercenaries of their own?”

The Tabaxi furrowed his brow, his amber eyes gazing into the wilderness. “It is strange indeed. In all the times we have driven Raiders from our doorsteps, I cannot recall a single time we faced a wielder of magic.” Coil yawned. “This time it is different. They did not scatter with the fall of their leader. Unless of course, that was not the leader at all.”

“What really vexes me is the sudden retreat,” Axel interjected. “They clearly had the advantage, especially with the wizard among them.” The statement hung in the air like a heavy fog.”

Folgrubelle broke the silence. “As if they are playing with us. Testing us.”

“For what purpose I wonder?” The young paladin considered the ramifications that they were marching into a far more dangerous battle than what was initially being let on. He looked back apprehensively to the volunteers. “They will not survive.” Axel turned back. “We may not survive.”

Silence overcame the group at the thought the next battle could be their last and they marched on to nothing but the sounds of heavy footsteps, clanking of armor and weapons. Near the back, Ash was scribing into his journal.

“This one has experienced battle for the first time. Gnolls are like big smelly dogs. Angry dogs that walk on two legs much like Tabaxi are as cats or catfolk that walk on two legs. It was terrifying and chaotic. Ash had smelled blood before, but it smelled different than after a hunt. This one thinks the blood of war smells sad. Sorrowful. It offends Ash’s nose.

These warriors are brave but are not invincible. Moddok Ironbraid was a mighty dwarf warrior from the clan in the mountains by the village. Fearsome wielder of a battleaxe. He died fighting by ice falling from the sky. This one had never seen such a thing. So much power. Ash wishes to wield this power to save his people. If this one was stronger maybe save the others? Ash does not know if that is possible but wishes to try.”

The Tabaxi closed the journal and looked around. Seeing no one was talking, he just kept to himself and kept marching.

Being the fastest of the scouts, Ioelena had gone far ahead of the group. She feared another ambush and the wizard that evaded her raised questions in her mind that she could not answer. First, she had seen a fiend among the first group of Gnolls they had encountered, and this group of Gnolls had a wizard.

Ioelena had made it to the edge of a forested area and checked for ambushes. The rest of the mercenaries were still in an open field, and this would be a good place to lay a trap but not even so much as a disturbed stick was to be found. It looked as if none had passed this way, which meant the Gnolls were not coming from the camp Moradall had intended to clear. As the elf turned to report back, a hushed voice filled her ears.

“Looking for those mangy Gnolls?”

The elf could not locate the source of the voice but felt compelled to answer. “There is a camp of Raiders we wish to clear. Did the Gnolls from there?”

“No.”

Ioelena knew better than to be terse with a voice in the forest so she considered her words carefully. “You know of the Gnolls. Is there something you wish me to know of them? Do they harm these woods?”

“Ah, you ask the right questions. I should not expect less from an elf actually. Excuse my rudeness, let me introduce myself.” With a giggle, a Pixie fluttered out. Streaks of red and purple accented lightly curly golden hair. Her yellow wings trimmed with teals and hints of red that almost looked like hearts. She glistened in the sun before setting down on low branch. “I am Yuki. Who might you be?”

The elf smiled. “A sprite. I should have guessed. I am Ioelena Kelmaer. I am a scout in the employ of mercenaries that are seeking to rid the Raiders from these lands.”

“A pixie thank you very much.” Yuki stamped her foot but giggled. “So you want to get rid of the uglies that want to defile these woods? I could probably help you.” The pixie stood up, putting her arms on her hips. “I am tiny but fierce.”

Ioelena tried to contain her amusement. “Okay miss tiny fierce. How can we help each other.”

“Hmph. Maybe I don’t want to tell you now. I am Yuki. Yu. Ki. Key, like you know a, you know, nevermind.” She turned her back peeking to see if the elf’s reaction.

“Oh, I am terribly sorry Yuki. I meant no offense.” The elf smiled and offered her hand. “Forgive me?”

Yuki turned around, fluttering into the scout’s outstretched hand. “Maybe. First, help the woods. Then we help you.” She put one hand on her hip and pointed with the other. “There’s something weird about these smelly ugly mutts. They’re sniffing about for something. They can not come into this forest.”

“Is there something in the forest they might want?” Ioelena asked inquisitively.

The pixie pondered for a moment. “There is a strange book I may have borrowed.” She giggled as it was likely a prank, as sprites are often known to do. “The others say it reeks of evil. It should not go back. Now, these Gnolls come here.”

The wizard must want it the elf thought to herself. “They will not leave you be until they find the book I fear. Can you destroy it?”

Yuki huffed. “Hey! I am not dumb. If the book could be destroyed I would not be asking for help!” Her wings flickered in agitation. “Do you know why they want it? What is it?”

“No Yuki I do not but there is a wizard among them who seems rather powerful. Did you... you know, take it from them?” Ioelena figured there was no harm in asking.

“Hee hee, no. It was some silly errand boy.” The pixie looked rather smug. “He was lost and I said I would help him if he played a game first. I hid his book.” She had a giggle fit at the thought of the boy’s panic when he realized the book was gone. “Harmony may have breathed too much on him. She only meant to soothe him, but I think he fell asleep forever. Oopsie.”

The elven scout knew that sometimes pranks turned deadly when it came to the forests, but this may have helped them more than it hurt. “So they might not know the book is missing, only that the boy is late.” Ioelena paused while she thought about why the Gnolls have not entered the woods. It was not a particularly big forest, though she knew every forest had at least a few guardians.

“Harmony meant no harm. They play tricks as much as we do and she has been rather lonely.” Yuki explained further. “She is a faerie dragon and wanted to usher the boy out safely. Him panicking was not helping. Harmony did say he could not have the book back. Perhaps he did not like that?”

“Likely not. What can be done now is deal with the book and your mangy mutt problem.” Ioelena smiled. “I am not in charge, but he wishes to stop them, so they will go where I say the Gnolls come from.”

“They are that way, not far. They take wood for fires, but not much more.” Yuki explained.

The elf nodded. “So not a large camp then? That is good, but seems small for how many I saw when they attacked.”

The pixie fluttered about anxiously. “It is many small camps. Only the closest comes to the forest edge. I tried to scare them away, but I think they were going to try and eat me!”

“Okay, I will see what we can do. In the meantime, I will find my druid friend and convince them to help you. Deal?” Yuki fluttered over and hovered in Ioelena’s face.

“Deal.”


End file.
